


New Year's Wish

by justanotherbusyfangirl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-07 05:56:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16848433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanotherbusyfangirl/pseuds/justanotherbusyfangirl
Summary: Dean is granted a simple wish on New Year’s Eve.





	New Year's Wish

Sam and Dean walked into the bunker, exhausted from the hunt they were returning from.  They’d been gone for weeks – basically ever since Thanksgiving.  They’d missed Christmas (not that they celebrated much anyways), and were returning early afternoon on New Year’s Eve, arms laden with groceries they knew they so desperately needed.

Sam went straight for the showers after dropping the bags off, eager to wash off the feeling of the long drive.  Dean, however, dropped his bags off and went back out to the garage.  After the long hunt, driving hundreds of miles and through snow and ice, he wanted to make sure that the Impala was still in tip-top shape.

His hands seemed to caress the car, popping the hood to check the engine before rolling beneath to check the undercarriage.  He only had to wipe down a few places, tightening a couple things here and there.

Once he was satisfied, he opened the front door to sit in his seat, leaning his head back and closing his eyes.  “It’s all good, baby,” he told his car.  “I’ll always take care of ya.  Sorry about the past few weeks, but we’ll rest a bit now.  I just wish you could come in to sit by the fire with me ‘n Sammy tonight for New Years’.”

Dean breathed in the scent of leather and oil that had been his home for so many years.  While Sam might relax under the hot water of a shower, Dean always felt most relaxed while at the wheel of his baby.

He dozed for a little while before finally getting out of the car, patting the hood before he wandered into the bunker to shower himself.

The brothers were working in the kitchen, having decided to make a small feast out of the holiday that they were actually able to half-way celebrate, since they missed Christmas and all. Dean was in front of the stove, cooking a couple steaks and some mushrooms while Sam was on veggie duty.

It was peaceful there for a while as they cooked, until they heard a large crash coming from the other side of the bunker.  Sam and Dean’s heads snapped up, locking eyes with each other before looking toward the door of the kitchen.  

“Cas?” Dean spoke, wondering if the angel had decided to pop in and scare the hell out of them.  When there was no response, the men turned to make their way through the bunker.  Sam was holding a large kitchen knife, while Dean found his stashed handgun under the kitchen table.

They made their way down the hallway of the bunker, checking each room as they passed.  There was no one in the bedrooms, so they turned toward the library.

Finding it empty as well, the men lowered their weapons slightly, confused at what could have made the sound and where it came from.  Dean opened his mouth to say something before another crash sounded, from the garage.

Weapons rose once more and Dean led the way to the garage.  The door was closed, so Sam counted down from three before Dean slammed the door open, eyes and muzzle of the gun sweeping the room carefully.

His brows furrowed as he saw his stash of guns, holy water, knives, and books on the floor – all of the things that were usually hidden in the trunk of his baby.

“Baby,” Dean breathed, moving quickly toward the place that his car had been parked only hours before. No car was in the place, but all of the things that had been in the car were littering the floor – that must have been the noises they heard.  Dean stood in the car’s parking place, turning in a circle to sweep the room.

The garage door was still closed, and they definitely would have heard the old hinges of the door if it had been opened, so it hadn’t been stolen.  Sam walked a few paces into the room, knife near his hip.

“Where’s the car?” he asked Dean, who looked at him just as confused.

“She was right here, man,” Dean responded, gesturing to the place where he was standing.  “I spent time fixing her up and everything…”

Dean stopped speaking when they heard another rustling sound behind one of the old Men of Letters cars. Yet again, their weapons were raised. Quickly and efficiently, the brothers moved toward the row of cars, their hunting skills allowing them to communicate silently to each other while clearing the area.

They got to the end of the row and Dean stepped around, gun pointing at a figure on the ground.

“Who are you?” he demanded powerfully, cocking his gun and planting his feet firmly.  Sam came around the other side, knife at the ready.

A sniffle came from the figure, and Dean looked closer.  It was a woman, and she was wearing black jeans, black work boots, and a leather jacket. Her dirty blonde hair was covering her face along with her hands, and she seemed to be shivering.

The brothers made eye contact and Sam nodded, Dean stowing his gun in the waistband of his pants. He took a step forward, Sam still covering him.  Dean lowered himself near the woman, hands held out as if he was approaching a wounded animal.

“Hey, who are you?” Dean asked much quieter, knowing that his first outburst had scared the woman. His hand reached one of her legs, and he touched it lightly.

The woman jumped away from him, but looked at his face for the first time.  He saw her bright green eyes, the same color as his, widen with recognition before she jumped at him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a happy, “Dean!”

Sam, unsure of whether to attack or put his knife away, looked at Dean in confusion.  The confusion was mirrored back, however, as Dean had no idea who this woman was.  He was sure he would remember a face as beautiful as hers, especially with how happy she was to see him.  He couldn’t think of any woman who could be  _that_  happy to see him, except maybe Charlie.

Still locking eyes with Sam, Dean held his hands in an ‘I don’t know’ gesture before patting the woman’s back awkwardly.  “Um, hi,” Dean spoke awkwardly.  He let the woman hug him for a minute longer, racking his brain for any memory of who she was.  Not knowing what to say, he closed his mouth and took a deep breath in, ready to remove himself from the hug.

The scent that he breathed in instantly calmed him.  The leather of her jacket, the smell of nature –  _outside_  – and something else that had him flashing back to a happy place that he just couldn’t put his finger on.  The tension in his shoulders was released and he held the woman as he stood up, bringing her upright with him.

Finally, Dean pulled away, but he kept his hands on the stranger.  One hand was at the small of her back and the other came up to brush her hair off her face.  He studied the beautiful face before him, her green eyes shining as she looked at him and her features angular as she smiled.  

Sam cleared his throat behind her back and Dean pulled his eyes away from the woman.  Sam gave him a look that clearly said,  _Well who is she?_ , but Dean still didn’t have an answer. All he knew is that she was no threat. He didn’t know how he knew that, he just did.

“Dean I’m so glad you’re here.  I woke up, and I didn’t know what to do!” the woman started rambling, her voice deep and rumbling.  She spoke softly, but with power.  The brothers’ brows furrowed as she spoke, not knowing why she was so happy to see Dean.

Dean cleared his throat and lowered his hands from her body, taking a small step back.  “So, uh, sorry… but who are you?”  His head lowered in a bashful way, his entire being wanting to know everything about this woman, especially since she seemed to care for and trust him.

His question startled her, and she frowned (which Dean most definitely did  _not_  think was the most adorable thing ever, nope not at all). She took a tiny step back from him, toward the Men of Letters car she had been hiding behind.  She angled herself to look back at Sam, who was still holding the knife in his hand.

“Sammy?” she asked, hoping that he would recognize her if Dean didn’t.

Sam’s head tilted in question.  Usually when someone besides Dean called him Sammy, it made him tense up in defense, but hearing the nickname come from the woman’s mouth felt totally and completely  _right_.

Sam put the knife down. Meeting Dean’s eyes briefly, Sam took a couple steps so that he was closer to the woman, hoping that he could recognize her as she recognized him.

No luck – he hadn’t ever laid eyes on her, and Sam had a pretty photographic memory.  Seeing that there was no recognition, the woman’s shoulders slumped.  She opened and closed her mouth a few times, not knowing what to say.  Finally she stuffed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket, using the car behind her to slide back to the floor.

Once she was there, knees to her chest, she drew something from her pocket and began fiddling with it close to her face.  She studied the object, fingers flitting over the surfaces.  Dean leaned toward her, trying to see what it was that she had.

It was a little green army man.  He gasped. “Baby?”

* * *

It took a few minutes to convince Sam that the woman in the garage was truly the Impala, but the feeling of familiarity and home about her was convincing.  The three of them made their way back into the bunker, back to the kitchen.

Baby (as Dean refused to call her anything else) sat down at the kitchen table to watch the boys finish cooking.  Dean cut the steaks into smaller pieces so they could split the two slabs between the three of them, and soon steaming plates were served up.

Baby seemed to have all memories of being a car, and they sat reminiscing through dinner.

“Yeah, you probably don’t remember, but Dad almost didn’t buy you,” Dean was saying.  San had actually never heard the anecdote of Dean telling their father to buy the Impala over the van, and was thoroughly enjoying it.  “You were so beautiful, sitting there in that parking lot – and he dared to have his eyes on another car.  Idiot.”

Baby reached her hand to rest on Dean’s.  “Thank you for convincing him to get me.  I can’t imagine an existence not being with you boys.”

Dean smiled back at her, putting another bite of steak in his mouth.  

Sam shifted awkwardly in his seat, thinking quietly to himself.  “Spit it out, Sammy,” Baby said, in a tone that mimicked Dean almost exactly, just with a feminine voice.

Sam huffed a laugh, scratching the back of his neck.  “It’s just –“ Sam started, looking up at her through long lashes.  “Sorry for everything we’ve, uh,  _done_  in the backseat…you know, the girls.”

Baby laughed, throwing her head back.  Dean couldn’t help but smile at the sound – she was just as beautiful as a person as she was as a car.  Sam looked startled at the outburst, but soon he smiled back as well.

“No worries, Sammy. No judgment here.”

Dean stood, clearing their now empty plates.  He washed them off in the sink as Sam eagerly started a new subject.

“So, as nice as this has been, I think it’s time to ask,” he began.  “How – and why – did you become human?”

Dean looked over his shoulder at Baby to see her staring at him.  “I believe,” she answered, “that it was Dean’s wish that made me human, if only for a little while.”

“Dean’s wish?” Sam repeated, looking at his brother.  Dean turned back to the dishes, not wanting his brother to see his face.   _I just wish you could come in to sit by the fire with me ‘n Sammy tonight for New Years’,_ he remembered saying aloud in the car.

Dean heard a chair scraping on the floor behind him.  Baby’s small hand rubbed at his shoulder blades, probably trying to bring comfort. “It seems that someone, somewhere, wanted to grant Dean a New Year’s wish today.”

Sam harrumphed behind them, knowing his brother wouldn’t want him to pry much further.  He had stumbled upon Dean talking to the car before, so it didn’t much surprise him that Dean had wished something, inadvertently turning the car into a human woman.

Baby settled herself to lean against the counter next to the sink as Dean finished dishes.  Once his thoughts were collected and there was nothing more to distract himself with, he spoke softly to her, knowing Sam would hear as well.  “How long?”

She shrugged in response. “Knowing the way the world works, and the way wishes work, probably not more than the night.  That is all that you asked for, after all.”

Sam cleared his throat. “So, should I, uh, go?”

Dean turned around, a confused look on his face.  “Why?”

Baby’s enthralling laugh rang out once more.  “Oh, Dean. He thinks you wished for a New Year’s fuck, that’s why.”  She laughed harder, knowing that the idea was not a far reach for Dean.

Baby’s teasing made Sam look at Dean for answers.  Dean ran his hand over his face, slightly embarrassed at the platonic situation he was in – maybe he  _should_  have wished for a New Year’s fuck.  “I just wished for her to sit with us.  By the fire. Have a nice night.”

Sam stood up to clap his brother on the shoulder.  He looked from Dean to Baby, a small, pleased smile on his face.  “Well then, let’s grab a drink and relax.”

Dean led Baby to the den, where they had a nice fireplace, comfy sofas, and a small TV.  Wanting to have as many human experiences as possible while she could in the little time she’d be human, Dean coached her through starting the fire.  She flipped through TV channels for a moment, deciding that watching their lives was more interesting than anything on the television, before she turned it off.

By the time Sam came in with three whiskeys, Dean and Baby were sitting on one couch, trading scar stories.  Of course, they both knew all of the stories already, as they had been there for (almost) every time the other had been hurt, but it was fascinating to share their experiences again.

Baby pulled Sam down on the couch on her other side to join in on the conversation.  Soon enough, they were laughing and reminiscing even more. Baby lifted her shirt to show them the S.W. and D.W. marked into her skin, just below her breast.  She showed them a scar on her leg, just barely visible but still there from when Dean ran her into the road blocks while he fought the ghoulpires.  

As it neared midnight, the television was turned on so that Baby could watch the ball drop for the first time.  The three of them counted down together, falling into a group hug when the clock struck midnight.  Baby grabbed each brother’s face to kiss them each chastely on the lips, saying that she definitely deserved to be their first kiss of the New Year, after all they had put her through.  They couldn’t argue with that.

The night continued, until they were snuggled so far into the couch that all three of them were dozing. Knowing that it was time to go, Baby stood, putting her glass on the coffee table.

She reached over to Sam, threading her fingers through his hair gently.  He nuzzled against her, mostly asleep.  Kissing him softly on the forehead, she whispered goodnight to him.

She moved on to Dean, holding his face in her hands.  Her thumbs caressed his cheeks, and his eyes fluttered in sleep, wanting to wake up for her but too exhausted to.  She leaned down to kiss his lips softly, his sleep-ridden features just barely responding.

Baby walked to the door, looking back at her boys once more before heading to the garage and curling up on the floor in the middle of her parking spot.

* * *

Dean woke first, back kinked from falling asleep on the couch.  He sat up, seeing his brother next to him but no Baby.  Knowing that his wish was probably fulfilled and she was probably back to normal, he stumbled his way to the garage, working the kinks out of his muscles as he walked.  

He opened the door to see his Impala, in it’s spot and shining beautifully.  With a melancholy air, he walked toward her, hands running over the hood as he made his way to the driver’s seat.  Like he had done the day before, he sat there with his head leaned back, eyes closed.

“Thanks for visiting, Baby. I hope you enjoyed your New Year’s as much as I did.  Here’s to many more.”

With that, Dean fell into an easy sleep, the smell of leather and oil and  _home_  seeping into his body, calming him more than anything else in the world ever could.


End file.
